


A Well Deserved Holiday

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Forever [8]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Barduilweek, Forever!Bard, Theme 1: On Holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:57:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4231356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is woken by the sound of little feet running along the floor, and he groans, rolling into the warm body beside him.</p><p>“I didn’t ask for this.” He mumbles, his lover snorting as the door swings open and hits the wall with a bang.</p><p>“Daeradar! Daeradar!” two identical voices chirp, and the bed dips as two little five year old bodies climb up onto it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Well Deserved Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Theme 1 of Barduilweek, On Holiday. http://barduilweek.tumblr.com/themes
> 
> There is a major time skip here, between the first fic, and this one. Mostly cos the other Barduilweek themes can help me fill the time space... but also because the actual slow progression fics haven't been written yet. Hahah, oops. 
> 
> I'm the least creative person you'll find when it comes to names. The twins' names both mean 'Battle elf', and are Danish(Alvilda) and Swedish/Norwegian (Alfhild) and the name comes from a maiden who disguised herself as a warrior in order to get out of marrying King Alf, who she later married anyway... awks. And Tomin is literally the name of a character from Stargate, hahaha, whoops. Yus, Brandwen is Bain's bae. 
> 
> Oh, and it's still a favourite headcanon of mine that Thranduil adopted Feren, who is playing regent while his papa is away. <3

Thranduil is woken by the sound of little feet running along the floor, and he groans, rolling into the warm body beside him.

“I didn’t ask for this.” He mumbles, his lover snorting as the door swings open and hits the wall with a bang.

“Daeradar! Daeradar!” two identical voices chirp, and the bed dips as two little five year old bodies climb up onto it.

“Why don’t they call for you?” Thranduil asks, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Because grandpa is always around, but daeradar is elusive.” Bard rumbles back, voice scratchy from disuse. Thranduil sighs and rolls over onto his back again.

“Hello, little ones.” He says, smiling at the little, dark haired bundles of joy grinning at him from the foot of the bed. “You’re daeradar’s alarm, are you?” he asks, earning identical nods.

“Ma said you got in late last night, daeradar!” exclaims Alvilda, crawling up onto Thranduil’s lap, Alfhild shuffling into the gap between Bard and Thranduil, and snuggling into Thranduil’s side.

“Aha, she says you’re on holiday for the week? What’s holiday, daeradar?” Alfhild asks, curious eyes trained on her daeradar.

“It means I’m taking time for myself, little one.” Thranduil replies with a fond smile, “It means I have time to spend with you and your sister, and your parents, and your aunt and uncle, and your grandfather.”

“Daeradar going to be here for a whole week?” Alvilda asks, eyes wide with excitement, a grin breaking out on her face.

“Yes, dear, a whole week.”

“Wow!”

“Girls! Leave your grandparents alone, now, you’ve got to get ready for your lessons.” Tilda calls from downstairs, and Thranduil laughs as the little girls whine.

“But, ma!” Alvilda tries, only to be shot down by her father.

“Listen to your mother, Vilda. Your daeradar will still be here when you return.” Tomin says, appearing in the doorway

“Alright.” The girls reply, sulkily. Thranduil gives each of them a kiss on the cheek and a hug before he sends them on their way. “Morning, daddy.” They chorus as they pass their father, he smiles fondly at them and greets them quietly.

“Morning, Tomin.” Thranduil greets the man with a little wave.

“Morning.” Tomin replies with an amused smirk.

“Tilda planned this, didn’t she?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny this.” Tomin answers, with a laugh. “I do know she wanted you both to help Bain with his wooing of Brandwen.”

“Uh, why can’t you help him with that?” Thranduil grumbles, nudging Bard and tapping out Morse code on his arm to convince the human to get out of bed.

“It’s generally not the done thing to accept relationship advice from your brother-in-law.”

“Bain has sisters. Two of them, can’t he ask them for help?”

“Right, because lovesick boys are prone to listening to their sisters.” Bard mumbles, swatting at Thranduil’s hands.

“Bain isn’t a boy. He’s thirty five.” Thranduil responds with a roll of his eyes.

“He still looks eighteen, and is still a fool in love.” Tomin puts in, earning a sigh from Thranduil.

“Yes, I suppose he is. Brandwen isn’t a Forever, is she?”

“Not so far as I’m aware.” Tomin replies quietly, earning a nod from both kings.

“Right. Thanks, Tomin. We’ll take care of this.” Thranduil says, before turning to Bard, “Come on, we have chores to do.”

“You’re on holiday. You can sleep in.” Bard replies with a grumble, determinedly keeping his eyes closed, and his face against his pillow.

“No. Our son is in need of our matchmaking skills.” Thranduil answers, nudging Bard again. Tomin snickers, backing out of the room and closing the door as he does.

“He can hold out for another half hour or so.”

“Yes, he can. And since it takes you about that long to get ready, up!” Thranduil says, poking Bard in the stomach, and eliciting a yelp from the man.

“Thran!”

“Up.”

“No.” Thranduil scowls, climbs from the bed and turns to scoop Bard up into his arms. “Ah! Thranduil! What?” Bard yells, trying to free himself from Thranduil’s strong grip.

“I can dump you in the lake, if you’re prefer, or I can put you down now and you can make yourself presentable.” Thranduil says with a smirk.

“The _lake?!_ ” Bard exclaims, eyes wide. “It’s freezing out!”

“Nonsense, you went swimming in the lake this time last winter.”

“You _dared_ me to!”

“I didn’t expect you to go through with it.” Thranduil retorts, “Anyway, that’s not important. The lake or solid ground?”

“Ground.” Bard mumbles, glaring at Thranduil, who smiles, and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Naww, you know you love me.” Thranduil murmurs, before setting Bard down gently.

“Yes, I do. Why I love you, though, is beyond me!” he laments, earning a pout from Thranduil, “Damn, that’s right, that’s why. You’re cute.” Bard teases, Thranduil laughs and swats at him lightly.

“Oh, hush. You’re going to make me blush.”

“Red is a good look on you.” Thranduil snorts and opens his mouth to reply when there’s a loud bang on the door.

“I’m throwing the both of you in the lake if you don’t hurry up. Tilda is withholding breakfast from everyone over 18 until you two lovebirds find your way to the dining table.” Legolas voice calls through the door.

“Goheno nin, ion nin.” Thranduil apologizes, sounding equally apologetic and amused.

“I should have traded with Feren! At least he gets to eat when he wants.” Legolas grumbles as he makes his way back downstairs, earning laughter from his parents.

“I didn’t know Legolas was joining us?” Bard says, as he throws on his shirt.

“Apparently I need a bodyguard.” Thranduil replies with a sigh, buttoning up his robes. “I can’t go on holiday without some form of protection detail, it would seem.”

“How about we sic Legolas on Bain, and we go and impose on Dain?”

“Somehow, spending my holiday surrounded by dwarves does not excite me?”

“Yes, but you and Dain have yet to have your drinking competition.”

“This is true. How about I drink Dain under the table my last night on holiday? I think the girls will sulk if I disappear into Erebor and don’t return for at least a day.”

“True.” Bard agrees, when there’s a banging on the door again.

“Ada, ata, I’m not kidding. I’ll throw you in the lake!” Legolas yells, before his footsteps can be heard retreating.

“Off to face the music, then.” Thranduil laments to Bard, who snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Domesticity, oh no! I’m going to die!” Bard exclaims dramatically, hand clutched over his heart.

“You shut up, you.” Thranduil responds with an offended sniff. “This is going to be so domestic it’s going to make me sick.”

“Thran, I don’t know if you know this, but you were domesticated a long time ago.” Bard says, heading to the door and pulling it open.

“Lies!” Thranduil retorts, as he’s ushered through the door by Bard. “All lies!”

“Aww, aren’t you precious?” Bard coos, “My precious King of Denial.” He says, kissing Thranduil on the nose. “C’mon, love, I think our children will consider murder if we keep them any longer.”

“It’s going to be a long week…” Thranduil says with a smile, before taking Bard’s hand and leading him downstairs to domestic life, and holiday bliss.


End file.
